Himitsu
by peppymint
Summary: Five things no one ever found out about Marco the Phoenix aka Harry Potter, and one they did.
1. The First

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

_Welcome to Peppymint's Fanfiction Blitz 2015_

_Day three of seven_

**Secret**

It was no secret Marco the Phoenix, Commander of the First Division, had a soft spot for children who had fallen on hard times. Whenever he wandered into town he always made a point of carrying dried fruits in his pockets, passing them out to those in need. Sweet treats for those who rarely, if ever, received any.

The pirate wished he could do more. After a near lifetime on the grand line he had more than enough coin. Sad as it was though, he knew handing out money would do no good. Odds were it would end up in somebody else's pocket if he tried. So, he did what he could.

No one though, not the marines, not even his own nakama knew of the child who had slept in a cupboard so very long ago. He had buried memories of the uncle who called him boy, the aunt who screamed freak, and in its own way his time as the boy-who-live had been just as bad if not worse.

The people of this world had never known the young man who was so desperate to live his own life that he had stepped through a portal with no idea what was waiting for him on the other side. Marco had won his freedom through blood and sweat and tears. It was a hard life at times, but one he wouldn't trade for anything.

And may the powers have mercy on anyone who tried to take it from him, because he wouldn't.

_/_

_No, this does not mean Hidden Claws is abandoned. It will be updated sometime this week._

_I have going to post this as a one-shot, but it just didn't work. So it will be a collection of six drabbles instead. As always please review. Hope you enjoy the blitz._

_-peppymint_


	2. The Second

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

**Segreto**

Marco knew he was the envy of many pirates, and quite a few marines as well. Commander of the First Division of the Whitebeard Pirates, holder of the Tori Tori no Mi, Model: Cryophoenix, one of the rare mythical zoan fruits. A man whose name was known throughout the whole world.

The pirate would never admit that when he ate the thing he had been well on his way to starving to death. His pride would never recover from the blow. Upon arriving in this world, the first local Marco had found himself in hadn't been very hospitable to say the least. It put the desert in Desert Island.

In truth, the young man had found the oddly colored blue fruit several days before consuming it, setting it aside for when he got truly desperate. Rightly suspecting there was something not quite normal about the strange fruit. In that, Marco had been right. Fortunately however his first hypothesis, that it was poisonous, hadn't been. The Devil Fruit had undoubtedly saved his life. Keeping the then teenager in the peak of health while he learned the limits of his new power.

Marco's first flight made under his own power had been awkward to say the least. Fortunately, perseverance was one trait the pirate possessed in both his lives. And the far friendlier looking island right on the edge of the horizon was a great motivator. The Devil's Fruit had even fixed his eyesight, though the marks of his glasses still existed in his phoenix form. As Marco aged, the sun darkening his skin and bleaching his hair a light orange, those marks became the only sign Harry Potter had once existed.

And truth be told, the pirate was glad of it.


	3. The Third

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

**Clandestinus**

Marco had been with the Whitebeard Pirates a long time. Long enough that he had known Gol D. Roger personally; long enough that he remembered when his captain still had hair. Whitebeard had opened his heart to him, asking nothing in return. He had given the lost teenager a home. One that made Harry's early years at Hogwarts pale in comparison. The phoenix had made a vow, if only to himself, that he would do everything in his power to protect his family, as they had protected him.

Which made it all the more painful when the pirate had realized he wasn't aging. Despite that fact Marco was on the better side of forty, he looked thirty, at most. Phoenix's were creatures of healing, of life and rebirth, and like all zoans, the pirate wasn't truly human. Not anymore. His nature had been innately changed the moment the cursed fruit touched his lips. Not so with his nakama.

Marco was, like all phoenixes, immortal. The pirate was not quite sure what had become of the previous holder of the Tori Tori no mi. Assuming there had been one, the island where he had found the thing being an out of the way desolate place, and no one knew where Devil's Fruits came from in the first place. It was possible it had always been there.

What Marco did know was that not even the sea could kill him, not permanently at any rate. He had discovered that not two days after eating the fruit. Harry, because he was still Harry then, had decided to go for a swim. Just because he had been stuck on a Desert Island was no reason not to maintain proper hygiene, and his smell had started to become offensive. No one had been around to warn him he would now sink like a stone.

The then teen had woken on the beach, half in and half out of the water, the position of the sun telling him he had lost at least half a day. It was possible it could have been longer. Either way, the fact remained that he should have died that day. But then, what else was new?

Marco would never tell. It was his burden to bear.

_/_

_Curse the romance languages. All I want is five significantly different ways to say secret._

_I will keep looking. In the meantime hope you enjoyed and please review._


	4. The Fourth

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

_Big Shout Out to DemonicPride2001 for the tranlations_

_You made my life so much easier_

**Hemmelig**

As the Whitebeard Pirates had risen to prominence, their Captain becoming one of the four Yonko who ruled the New World, it had been easy for Marco to slip into the role of everybody's big brother. He figured it was the remnants of what Hermione had once called his 'saving people thing.' Thankfully though, Marco had left the whole self-sacrificing martyr bit in the mud where it belonged. He deserved to be happy too, and he knew his nakama would agree.

Marco worked as hard as the lowliest deck hand on the Moby Dick, harder even. He kept up with all the paperwork. He balanced the budget, ordered supplies; did his best to keep his many brothers out of trouble and more or less in one piece. The zoan even spent a good portion of his time coming up with ever more creative ways of sneaking Pops medicine into his food, for which the nurses thanked him. Yep, that was him, the responsible, reliable Commander of the First Division.

All of which meant that no one, except maybe the captain, would ever suspect it had been he who had turned Thatch's beloved Pompadour bright green. Marco was, after all, the son of a Marauder, and it served his friend right. He was, in no shape or form, a giant blue chicken, and the other would do well to remember that.

_/_

_I feel so bad. I really want to get the next chapter of Hidden Claws up_

_But I am working six day this week. Hope you enjoyed this little bit._

_With any luck RL will give me a break_


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